She knew at once, with instinctive certainty, that it was not he.

Nor was it Nelson, who would have shuffled; nor could it be the vain Mamie, nor one of the other servants, for they did not sleep in the house.

It was a step more like a woman's, though certainly it was not Mrs.Tanberry's.
Betty rose, took a candle, and stood silent for a moment, the heavy tresses of her hair, half-unloosed, falling upon her neck and left shoulder like the folds of a dark drapery.
At the slight rustle of her rising, the steps ceased instantly.

Her heart set up a wild beating and the candle shook in her hand.

But she was brave and young, and, following an irresistible impulse, she ran across the room, flung open the door, and threw the light of the candle into the hall, holding it at arm's length before her.
She came almost face to face with Crailey Gray.
The blood went from his cheeks as a swallow flies down from a roof; he started back against the opposite wall with a stifled groan, while she stared at him blankly, and grew as deathly pale as he.
He was a man of great resource in all emergencies which required a quick tongue, but, for the moment, this was beyond him.